


Winter Wunderland | 12 Days of Nevermas

by TillyWunderWing



Category: Nevermoor Series - Jessica Townsend
Genre: (for chapters six and seven), Angst, But they’re lesbians harold, Cadence is a Panicked Gay, Chapter nine is almost exactly like a Mogtober one I did lmao, Chapter twelve makes up for it tho I promise, Christmas, F/F, Happy crimbus you buncha nerds ❤️, Hollowpox spoilers, I revoke what I said about this being platonic because it very obviously is not lmao, Jupidad, Light-Hearted, Oneshot collection, Sickfic, Snowball Fight, Snowmen, Unit 919 - Freeform, can be read as platonic, gingerbread, im so very sorry for chapter eleven but I just HAD to, sorry if I miss any character tags lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:33:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28039251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TillyWunderWing/pseuds/TillyWunderWing
Summary: A collection of Christmassy Nevermoor oneshots!1. Unit 919 makes gingerbread.2. Morrigan makes snowmen with friends.3. The Deucalion grows a tree & Israfel pays a visit.4. Cadence comes down with a cold.5. 919 have a sled race.6. 919 hold a Nick vs Yule debate.7. Jupiter teaches Morrigan to ice-skate.8. 919 make ugly sweaters.9. Frank plans a party.10. Morrigan and co. have a snowball fight.11. Christmas at Crow Manor.12. The Deucalion hosts a mock Battle of Christmas Eve.
Relationships: Cadence Blackburn/Morrigan Crow, Marina Cheery/Roshni Singh
Comments: 41
Kudos: 71





	1. Gingerbread

“Hawthorne, you’re not—you’re not doing this right.”

“Shut up. I know what I’m doing.” Hawthorne shot Francis a withering look as his gingerbread amalgamation crumbled in his hands.

Francis pinched the bridge of his nose. “Which would be what, exactly?”

“I am TRYING,” Hawthorne said, “to make a dragon.” He paused. “It is not going well.”

As the Christmas season approached, Francis had taken it upon himself to teach Unit 919 how to make gingerbread. Morrigan had thought this was a bad idea from the start, but she didn’t say as much—he’d seemed excited, which was rare, and she didn’t want to ruin his mood.

She’d been right, though. 919 seemed to have a specific, collective talent for making a mess of things, a factor which Francis apparently hadn’t considered until it was much too late.

“Maybe it needs more icing,” Morrigan suggested, walking over and looking down at the sad lump that was not quite a dragon.

“It absolutely does not,” Cadence butted in. “The poor sod is practically  _ drowning  _ in the stuff.” This much was true—there was rather a lot more icing than there was gingerbread, and Morrigan wasn’t entirely sure how much more sugar could possibly be added until the thing turned into a home-baked plate of cardiac arrest.

Hawthorne opened his mouth to protest, but was interrupted by a quiet “uh-oh” from the table next to them—where Lam was leaning tight-jawed against the bench, rubbing her temple as if she had a headache.

A few expectant seconds passed. Anah screamed from the other room.

The rest of the Unit turned to watch, with varying degrees of worry, as Thaddea sprinted in. She was holding fire—which was, broadly speaking, not a very good sign.

Miss Cheery shot up from her chair with an alarmed expression, reaching for the extinguisher. Thaddea set the blazing tray down on the bench, yelling incoherently, and Miss Cheery let loose with her weapon of mass anti-destruction. Morrigan coughed as a thick white powder filled the room, and Unit 919 was left staring at the smouldering remains of what had been a particularly unfortunate gingerbread man. 

Anah pressed herself into a corner, looking frightened. Thaddea looked down at the mess she’d made, a guilty expression crossing her face.

“I... burnt it.”

“I noticed,” Francis said through gritted teeth.

Morrigan stepped back, hovering at the edge of the room while Francis worked to clear away the charred crumbs. Cadence sidled up beside her, pressing something into the palm of her hand. Morrigan looked down to discover she was holding a biscuit.

“It’s supposed to be a crow,” Cadence muttered sheepishly, “but it didn’t turn out too good...”

Morrigan broke off what she thought was a wing, taking a thoughtful bite. “It  _ tastes  _ good,” she said. “Very... gingery.”

“I’d hope so.”

The pair sat back quietly, snapping off pieces of Cadence’s deformed corvid and nibbling on them as chaos unfolded around them. They both laughed as Hawthorne threw a decapitated gingerbread head at Archan, and winced when it hit Thaddea instead, causing her to turn on Hawthorne with a stormy expression.

By the end of the day, the only people who had had any degree of success were Lam and Mahir—the former because she’d known exactly which antics to avoid and when, and the latter because he’d set himself up in the corner, gathered the required ingredients, and then minded his own damn business for the rest of the baking session while the rest of the Unit wreaked havoc around him.

Francis heaved a long sigh, looking over the carnage of the war-torn gingerbread cities, complete with devastated gingerbread families mourning their mutilated gingerbread loved ones. “Can you guys take  _ anything  _ seriously?”

“Not even if you paid me,” Hawthorne saidcheerfully.

Morrigan smiled, biting the leg off of a slain gingerbread soldier from the great gingerbread war, who had presumably fought a long and hard battle for his gingerbread nation, and was now being eaten by the commander of his gingerbread army, who was herself made of flesh and bone, and not remotely composed of gingerbread like the warriors she so bravely commanded.

It was probably an honourable death, for him. Morrigan liked to think so.

Cadence appeared at her side again, their shoulders touching briefly before they both leaned away, slightly embarrassed.

“Well, I think this was fun,” Miss Cheery said brightly. Cadence and Morrigan shared a glance, stifling giggles.

“Whatever you say, Miss,” Francis responded in a defeated tone.

“He’s just upset because he lost the gingerbread battle,” whispered Cadence.

Morrigan laughed, and found herself leaning back into Cadence, resting against the taller girl’s shoulders.

“All’s fair in love and war,” Morrigan said sagely.

She handed Cadence a biscuit. Cadence took it gratefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot direction? I hardly know her  
> Anyway look!! New project!!! Like I don’t already have like three other fics going on lmaoooo  
> But yeah here’s,, this! I’ve started reading Good Omens and it’s kinda leaking into my writing style


	2. Snowman

Fresh snow piled against the entrance of the Deucalion, and Morrigan bounded through it with a grin, the cold air turning her cheeks pink.

“Oy, Morrigan!” called Jack. “Gimme a hand with this.”

“What’s the magic word?”

“Abracadabra.”

“...Fine, whatever.”

She hopped over to where Jack was struggling with a large snowball, and she bent down to wrap her arms under it. With a great heave, they managed to swing the snowball upwards, placing it atop two other large snowballs with a heavy crunch.

Jack stood back to admire his handiwork. “Should we give him a name?”

Morrigan folded her arms. “Hm. He looks like a Roger.”

“He does look like a Roger,” Jack repeated, nodding thoughtfully.

It had snowed overnight, and so Morrigan had enlisted Cadence and Hawthorne to help her build a platoon of snowmen outside the front of the Deucalion—with added assistance from Jack and Jupiter, of course.

Cadence was, admittedly, not helping much. She’d come along solely to keep Morrigan and Hawthorne company, and because, in her own words, she ‘didn’t have anything better to do’. She’d sat back to watch the chaos for a while, and then eventually flopped down into a nearby snowbank, making snow angels and staring into the sky with a bored look. Morrigan was glad to have her there regardless.

Hawthorne, however, had been doing his part with pride—easily making up for Cadence’s lack of commitment. If you wanted to find him, all you had to do was look up, because he’d somehow found a ladder and had taken to constructing the largest snowperson he could possibly create. He towered several metres off the ground, lobbing handfuls of ice onto the snowgiant’s torso like a master at work.

A hand on her shoulder distracted Morrigan from Hawthorne’s building. She turned to see Jupiter standing beside her, staring up at Hawthorne and looking slightly impressed. He turned to Morrigan, ruffling her hair.

“You having fun?”

Morrigan giggled. “Yeah.”

“Warm enough?”

“Yes, Jupiter.”

“Causing trouble?”

“Just a bit.”

“Good. You’d better be.” He gave her a wink before walking off.

Morrigan sighed, though there was a warm feeling bubbling in her chest, and a smile still painted her expression. She stepped backwards, away from the rest of the noise and goodwill, and then fell on her back into the powdery snow, right next to Cadence. The pair lay next to each other in silence for a few long moments, before a very loud thud indicated Hawthorne leaping from his snowgoliath to join them on the ground.

Morrigan turned her head towards Hawthorne. He was staring at the sky with a contemplative expression.

“What’re you thinking about?” she asked.

There was a moment’s silence. “Tennis rackets,” Hawthorne replied wistfully.

“Oh?”

“They make a neat noise,” he continued, “when you swing ‘em. And no one ever really talks about it.” He stared into the distance with mournful eyes.  _ “Woosh,”  _ he added, as if it were an important afterthought.

There was a beat’s silence, in which Cadence and Morrigan gave each other a questioning look, and then they both cracked up laughing.

Cadence sat up, shaking her head with a grin, and Morrigan pulled herself up beside her. “You really are something, Hawthorne,” Cadence said drily, and Hawthorne swept a hand through the snow to send frost spraying over both of them.

Morrigan dusted herself off, giggling. A little way off, Jack and Jupiter had finished building a mini snowman family. Jack caught Morrigan’s eye, then pointed to the smallest snowperson, then at her, as if drawing a comparison between the two. Morrigan stuck her tongue out at him.

Hawthorne stood up, brushing snow off his coat, and then returned to his snowbehemoth. Cadence and Morrigan watched as he climbed the massive structure with some difficulty, eventually coming to a stop atop its icy shoulders.

Morrigan shuffled over, leaning her head against Cadence’s shoulder. “He’s such an idiot,” she murmured, and Cadence gave an assenting laugh.

Morrigan was truly glad to have her around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is one singular italicised word in this chapter and gosh am I sure pleased that there aren’t more because ao3’s formatting is a Hassle And A Half  
> Like, maybe I COULD learn html, but also I have a very limited amount of brain cells and most of them are occupied by like. Comfort characters or crushing sadness, or sometimes both


	3. Tree

The lobby had grown a tree.

It had appeared overnight—a massive thing of pine, towering in the very centre of the Hotel’s entrance room. It had sprouted plain, nothing more than green leaves and branches, but it hadn’t stayed that way for long.

Various members of the Deucalion’s staff milled around the lobby, laughing and sharing stories while they carried boxes of tinsel and ornaments around the room. Multiple ladders had been propped around the base of the tree, and people were climbing them, draping twinkling lights through the branches and hanging baubles wherever they could reach.

Jack and Morrigan sat at the edge of the crowd, watching as the bare branches gradually filled with colour. Martha had supplied them with a bowl full of holiday snacks, and the duo were sharing a packet of little mint candies while they watched the decorating unfold.

Jupiter approached them in the midst of the festivity. “All right over here, you two?”

They nodded, mouths full of lollies, and Jupiter laughed.

As the day wore on, the baubles grew denser and denser, until the branches could scarcely be seen anymore. Morrigan looked up at all the shining decorations in amazement. She’d never seen so many beautiful colours until she came to Nevermoor.

Jack was looking at her, eyepatch pulled aside, with an eyebrow raised and a smirk on his face. “Enjoying the view?”

Morrigan nodded wordlessly, and Jack rolled his eyes at her. She gave him an indignant nudge, and both of them laughed.

* * *

There was a rather unexpected visitor later that night.

Morrigan found him perched at the very top of the tree, the twinkling lights highlighting his glossy black wings. Jupiter was leaned against the stair railing, as close as he could get, and the two were having a fairly casual conversation from the look of things.

Morrigan took the steps two at a time, slowing to a stop beside Jupiter. Israfel gave her a languid wave.

Morrigan knew of the tradition of tree-top decorations, and she also knew that angels were a common choice for this adornment. But when prompted, Israfel insisted he was no substitute for an angel.

“I’m a Celestial Being, Morrigan, dear,” he explained tiredly. “There’s rather a difference.”

“Then why _are _ you up here?”

Israfel gave a small smile. “It’s because, darling, I am a  _ star.” _

Morrigan and Jupiter shared an amused look. “A bit of a diva’s what you are, love,” Jupiter said offhandedly, and Israfel shot him a glare.

“But seriously,” Morrigan continued, tilting her head, “what brings you to the Hotel?”

Israfel shrugged, black feathers rippling with the movement. “I had a night off, and I figured, you know, what the heck. Pay my dear,  _ dear  _ friend here a visit,” he finished with a wink at Jupiter, who looked suddenly embarrassed. Morrigan raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.

Israfel smirked at Jupiter’s visibly flustered demeanour. “Past your bedtime, isn’t it, young Morrigan?” he prompted, with a pointed flick of his wings. “Perhaps it’s best you run along.”

Morrigan obliged, leaving the two men alone at the stairs. The distant sound of their amicable laughter followed her down the hall to her room, and she rolled her eyes with a smile.

* * *

Israfel was gone by morning. Apparently Celestial Beings had busy schedules.

Morrigan decided not to bring it up, though seeing him had been a nice surprise. And Jupiter had seemed glad to have him visit.

That afternoon, while she was watching the glittering Christmas lights from halfway up the stairs, she thought she saw a single black feather hidden in the folds of the tree. It was dark and shiny, and outlined by faint speckles of gold.

Somehow she found herself hoping Israfel might visit again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be about the Christmas tree but I accidentally made it gay.  
> Anyway I feel like the potential dynamic between Israfel and Mog isn’t explored NEARLY enough like,, them being friends is so low key wholesome??  
> Man I miss Israfel I hope we see more of him as the series continues.


	4. Cold

Cadence was uncharacteristically quiet at the station that morning.

Usually she’d have piped up with some sarcastic remark to Hawthorne, or a short ‘good morning’ to Morrigan at the very least. But she hadn’t said a word the whole time 919 was waiting for Hometrain to arrive, and Morrigan was admittedly a little worried.

Morrigan crept up to Cadence while the rest of the Unit animatedly discussed their timetables—a subject both were usually glad to partake in.

“Hey, Cadence.”

Cadence didn’t say anything. She just gave a small nod of acknowledgement, which Morrigan found unusual.

“Is... everything okay?”

Cadence nodded again without speaking. Morrigan knew she was probably pushing her luck here, but she continued regardless.

“Are you gonna talk to me at all today?”

Cadence hesitated, then shook her head, staring at the station wall. From within the Unit’s main circle, Lam seemed to have taken an interest in the girls’ exchange, and was watching them carefully.

Morrigan pouted, folding her arms. She knew Cadence could be stubborn, but she wasn’t ready to give up yet. 

“Why not?” She tilted her head, giving her best approximation of a doleful expression. “Are you mad at me or something?”

Cadence cracked at last.  _ “No,”  _ she snapped, shutting her eyes and leaning against the brick. Morrigan stepped back, surprised.

“Cadence, you sound... awful.”

“Cheers,” Cadence responded. Her voice was raspy and thick, and she winced as she spoke, as if the very action of speaking was painful.

Across the room, Lam nudged Anah, pointing at Cadence. Nodding carefully, Anah made her way over to the pair.

“You’re shaking,” Morrigan noticed with mounting concern. “Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?”

“It’s..” Cadence cleared her throat, grimacing. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“Morrigan’s right,” Anah interrupted. “You obviously have some kind of throat irritation—that much is clear from your voice. And you look to be a bit flushed.”

Morrigan pressed a hand to Cadence’s forehead, and though the taller girl flinched back slightly, she allowed Morrigan’s touch to linger for just a moment. “You do feel warm,” Morrigan admitted.

“Do you have any other symptoms?” pressed Anah.

Cadence looked annoyed. “Look, it’s just a stupid cold, okay? You don’t have to baby me.”

“So you  _ are  _ unwell,” said Anah.

“It’s not—“ Cadence cut herself off with a muffled sneeze into her elbow. “It’s not that bad.”

Anah looked skeptical. “You should be resting if you’re sick.”

“For goodness’ sake, Anah, it’s  _ just a cold.  _ It’s not like I’m going to drop dead or anything.”

“You look miserable, though,” Morrigan said, taking her by the shoulder. Cadence wouldn’t meet her eye. “Would a day off kill you?”

“I don’t  _ need  _ a day off,” Cadence insisted, shaking Morrigan away. She softened slightly at the worried look on Morrigan’s face. “I get that you’re trying to look out for me, but I’m fine. I promise.”

“Your feverish state would suggest otherwise,” Anah said, looking annoyed, “but I suppose it’s not the end of the world. So long as you take it easy for the rest of the day.”

Cadence raised an eyebrow. “Sure thing, doctor,” she said drily.

Anah opened her mouth to respond, but the signature rumble of Hometrain’s arrival cut her off. She simply sighed as the train pulled into view, shooting Cadence one last pointed look.

Miss Cheery greeted them all with a smile, as usual, and before long 919 had been herded onto the carriage like a noisy flock of sheep. Morrigan stuck firmly next to Cadence all the while, holding onto her arm and casting her the occasional glance. Cadence pretended not to notice.

Once the Unit was seated in their regular spots, Hawthorne sidled up beside Morrigan, tilting his head at Cadence. “What’s up with her?”

“I have a cold,” Cadence said quickly, “and she won’t let up about it.”

Hawthorne blinked. “You sound like a cat that tried to sing opera and then choked on last night’s dinner.”

“Thank you, Hawthorne, for that colourful imagery.” Cadence grimaced, as did Morrigan.

Anah appeared next to them quite suddenly, and attacked Cadence with a blanket. Cadence wriggled her way out of it quickly, uncovering her head and looking down at the woollen sheet Anah had draped over her.

“May I ask why?” she said, looking up at Anah.

“You should be keeping warm,” Anah said briskly. “I can see you’re still shaking.”

Cadence looked irritated, but didn’t push the matter any further. And the blanket did seem to help.

Miss Cheery came around later, armed with biscuits and tea. She didn’t say anything, but she gave Cadence an understanding nod while handing her a cup of chamomile. Cadence sipped it slowly, and Morrigan took the opportunity to shuffle up beside her, gently leaning against her.

Cadence swallowed another mouthful of tea before speaking. “I feel like you shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to get you sick...”

Morrigan shrugged. “I’ll be fine. It’s almost the holidays, anyway. Plenty of time to recover.”

Cadence hummed in agreement, and then tilted her head to rest against Morrigan’s. Morrigan closed her eyes, relaxing in the soft rumble of the train and the company of someone she held dear.

A few minutes passed before Cadence spoke again, setting her half-full teacup aside.

“Thank you for caring, Morrigan,” she said quietly. “It’s... nice to know someone does.”

Morrigan cuddled up to her a little closer. “You deserve to be cared for, Cadence,” she said in response. “And I’m glad to be the one to do it.”

They sat together in comfortable silence for the rest of the trip, both of them glad to be in the presence of someone who appreciated them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They’re lesbians your honour.  
> Did anyone ask for sapphic sickfic? No. Did I write it anyway? Absolutely.  
> Also I’m like a third of the way through this what the heck! Hope y’all are enjoying it so far lol


	5. Sled

“THREE!”

Hawthorne’s commanding voice rang through the street as the rest of Unit 919 crowded into place.

“TWO!”

There was quiet creak of wood and faint jostling of rope as they all secured themselves in their sleds.

“ONE!”

Morrigan wrapped her arms tightly around Cadence’s torso, both of them bracing for the race to begin.

_ “GO!” _

Blurs of colour whipped past Morrigan as Cadence pushed off the top of the hill and the race kicked off. Snow sprayed up around them in flurries, left behind by themselves and their screaming competitors.

Hawthorne and Archan quickly overtook them, with Arch standing over Hawthorne and shouting things that were completely incomprehensible in the rushing wind. Morrigan caught a glimpse of Arch gripping Hawthorne’s shoulder before the pair zoomed out of view.

Next to zip past them were Thaddea and Anah. Thaddea wore an exhilarated grin, swerving past Morrigan and Cadence with reckless abandon. Anah was clinging tightly to Thaddea, wide-eyed and shrieking as they picked up speed.

Morrigan threw a quick glance over her shoulder. Francis and Mahir were tailing them, both of them shouting things Morrigan couldn’t hear. Mahir, leading their sled, slid somewhat wonkily to the side, and after some struggle for control, both pairs drew neck-and-neck with each other.

Morrigan turned back to the front, tightening her grip around Cadence’s chest. Thaddea had sped towards Hawthorne, and the two were locked in a face-off, bumping off the sides of each other’s sleds and glaring at one another competitively. They were so locked in combat that neither groups noticed Cadence and Morrigan rush past them.

Morrigan gave an exhilarated cheer, though they still had competition. Francis and Mahir were slowly creeping ahead of them, manoeuvring the snowy slope with some difficulty. Cadence tightened her grip on the ropes, swerving away from them slightly.

For a few intense moments they were closely tied, until a bump in the snow sent both pairs flying. Cadence managed a rough but relatively stable landing, while Mahir nose-dived straight into the snow, scattering both him and Francis.

Morrigan called back to them in concern, but Cadence shouted back to her— _“they’ll be fine!”_ — and she turned her attention back to the course.

They were in the lead now. Hawthorne and Thaddea had finally broken out of their head-on match, seeming to at last realise they were being outgunned. Both pairs trailed close behind, and Morrigan leaned forward into Cadence, as if it would help them pick up speed.

Cadence, noticing their followers, gave the reins a sharp tug, sending them skidding sideways. The sudden action threw off their competitors, and all three sleds began swerving out of control.

Cadence shouted back to Morrigan again— _“hold on!”_ — as her plan quickly backfired. The sled spun out of control, and the two girls clung tightly to each other as the momentum sent them barreling through the snow.

They’d been so close to victory, too. Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—they weren’t the only team to lose their grip. Hawthorne’s sled began spiraling rapidly, faster and faster in a dizzying loop, until it finally tipped forward, launching its passengers into the snow. Thaddea followed soon after, distracted by Hawthorne’s downfall, before crashing into a snowdrift that somehow launched both her and Anah out of their ride. They landed with a thud right beside Morrigan.

Each of the six riders sat up, groaning, looking around to check if everyone else was okay. Anah began fussing over Thaddea, asking if she was hurt, but Thaddea pushed her away. A quiet crunch indicated visitors, and Francis and Mahir walked up to the group of disgraced competitors.

Morrigan did a quick headcount. There were eight people there, including herself. “We’re missing someone,” she began to say, but she found that someone quickly.

With a  _ whoosh  _ and a wave, Lam sped past the group, cutting a smooth path through the track with expertise.

Hawthorne gasped, indignant.  _ “Of course  _ she saw all that coming! She—she could’ve—I don’t...” He trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief.

Cadence stood up, dusting herself off and rubbing her side with a wince. “A bit of  _ warning  _ next time,” she called out to Lam, quite uselessly.

Morrigan flopped back onto the ground with a sigh, though a smile twitched on her lips. “How did any of us pass the Chase Trial...?” she said airily.

919 giggled as a collective, and despite being bruised, battered, and covered in snow, they were all happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My love for these kids is immeasurable. I have nothing more to say


	6. Debate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Chapter contains spoilers for the third book in the series, Hollowpox. If you haven’t read it yet and want to keep it a surprise, then I advise you give this chapter a miss. ✨

“Okay. Fine. Let’s settle this.”

Thaddea jumped up onto the table, much to the rest of the Unit’s intimidation.

“Anah, hand me those blankets.”

Anah tossed Thaddea a pair of blankets—one red, one green—and Thaddea nodded gratefully.

“Right. All the cool and awesome Nick supporters go on this side of the train,” she commanded, tossing the red blanket onto the chairs to her left. “And all the  _stupid loser idiot Yule supporters_ go over here,” she finished, wadding up the green blanket and tossing it onto the opposite side like it disgusted her.

Unit 919, with some confusion, split off into their respective groups. Morrigan, Hawthorne, and Mahir flocked to the red side, while Cadence, Francis, Anah and Lam converged to the green. Arch stayed where he was, looking torn.

Thaddea hopped down from the table, standing in front of the Nick team in a defensive position. “So here we have it. Hawthorne, Morrigan, Mahir—you three are cool. The rest of you lot are dumb nerds and I despise you.”

“You don’t mean that,” Anah said.

Thaddea pointed at her, eyes narrowed.  “ _You’re_ on thin ice, Kahlo. But all your teammates are useless sods.”

“I am  _ so sorry  _ for supporting someone with  _dignity_ ,”  Francis interrupted, sounding offended. “The Yule Queen is elegant and professional, and is clearly the better option. Sir Nick is just a fat old sellout.”

Hawthorne leaned over to Morrigan. “D’you reckon he and Jack would get along?” he muttered, and Morrigan snorted.

Thaddea was growing heated. “His name is  _ Saint  _ Nick, you buffoon, and he is  _ not  _ a sellout. He’s a national icon, and at least he’s got an actual personality, unlike that cold-hearted vulture you all seem to worship.”

“Don’t you dare disrespect my Queen,” growled Cadence. “Christmas would be nothing without her. And Nick doesn’t really have a personality, it’s all just fanservice. Yule is sincere.”

“Hang on, now,” Mahir piped up, coming to stand in front of Thaddea—who looked about ready to explode. “Christmas would be nothing without Nick, too. What are the holidays without a warm fire and presents?”

“Christmas is about more than gifts,” Lam argued.

“But gifts are what make the day special,” chirped Hawthorne. “It could snow on any old day, but how often do you get presents?”

Cadence slammed her fists on the table. “That’s exactly what a capitalist would say!”

“I want to hear what you think, Arch,” Morrigan interjected, before things could escalate further.

Archan cast a furtive glance around the room. “Um... I’m not sure. Most of my family is Yule, but I guess I’m more neutral...?”

“Pick a side, mate,” said Thaddea, glaring at him.

“Come join Team Yule,” Lam said invitingly.

“It’s what your family would want,” Francis added.

Arch still looked uncertain until Hawthorne spoke up.

“Join the Nick camp, Arch? Pretty please?” Hawthorne clapped his hands together, tilting his head and assuming a pleading expression.

Archan caved, crossing over to the red side and standing next to Hawthorne. Thaddea gave a cheer, while Francis and Cadence scowled.

“What about you, Miss?” prompted Anah, and the whole Unit turned towards the front of the train. “Which team are you on?”

“Who, me?” Miss Cheery swivelled in her seat, looking over her Unit. “Well... I suppose I’m a bit of a Nick fan myself— _ but!  _ But, I think both sides have their perks,” she added hurriedly, after seeing Thaddea’s face light up. “And look—I’ve decorated for both,” she finished, gesturing around at the green-and-red carriage.

“So.” Thaddea did a quick head count. “That’s me, Miss Cheery, Mahir, Morrigan, Hawthorne, and Arch for Nick. And only Francis, Lam, Cadence, and Anah for Yule.” She put her hands on her hips, triumphant. “Six versus four. We win.”

“No, no,” Cadence interrupted. “You brainwashed Arch, he doesn’t count. And Miss Cheery doesn’t count either.”

“She totally does!”

“She’s not technically in our Unit...”

“Does my girlfriend get a vote?” Miss Cheery asked with a hand raised. “If I may speak on her behalf?”

“She a Nick supporter?” Thaddea asked.

“No.”

“Then no, she does not.”

Cadence rolled her eyes. “You are unbelievable, Thaddea.”

“I bow to no monarchy,” she scowled in response.

“But you do bow to  _dirty capitalism_ ,”  Francis muttered.

“He’s a capitalist with spunk!” snapped Thaddea. Anah sat down, looking exhausted.

“Can we just agree to disagree here?” Miss Cheery begged. “The holiday season is about... unity and togetherness, or something. Could everyone please take a breather?”

Thaddea sat down with a huff, glaring at the Yule supporters. Morrigan caught Cadence’s eye from across the train, and they shared a mutual bemused smirk.

“Still a buncha nerds,” Thaddea grumbled, and Miss Cheery seemed to accept this as the closest thing to peace she could possibly achieve.

“How is your girlfriend, anyway?” Morrigan straightened up as she spoke, talking advantage of the lull in tension.

Miss Cheery grinned. “Rosh? She’s great. Christmas is always an interesting affair at the Gob—not that any of you lot will be going back there soon,” she rushed, cringing slightly. “Maybe I could get her to pay us a visit here. We’ll see.” She gave a nonchalant shrug, but Morrigan could see the dreamy spark that still twinkled in her eyes.

Morrigan shared a knowing look with Hawthorne, and despite the death glare she received from Thaddea, Cadence took to opportunity to crawl across the train and sit beside them.

“Changed your mind about the Yule Queen, Cades?” joked Morrigan.

“Nah. Still not a fan of Nick, but some of his fans are alright,” Cadence replied, winking at Morrigan.

Hawthorne groaned. “Would you two get a room?” Cadence leaned over to give him an indignant shove, and Morrigan laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I had a dollar for every time a character laughed in this fic I would have enough money for chicken nugget  
> Anyway stan wholesome fictional lesbrarians for clear skin ❤️


	7. Skating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Chapter contains minor Hollowpox spoilers!

The ice looked endless and otherworldly in the light of of winter sun. Morrigan sat uncertainly at the edge of the lake, sheltered under the skeleton of a dead tree, and watching as Jack and Jupiter glided somewhat shakily across the surface.

Since last year, when they’d found that frozen lake in the Deucalion, both Jupiter and Jack had taken it upon themselves to learn how to ice-skate without the help of any psuedo-sentient hotels. Jack had reportedly taken it up as an extracurricular at his boarding school, while Jupiter had just sort of picked it up during one of his expeditions.

Which left Morrigan as the only one of them who couldn’t ice-skate.

Jupiter approached her, swerving to a halt just at the edge of the lake and grabbing an overhanging branch for support. “Care to join us, Mog?”

Morrigan hid her face, embarrassed. “I still can’t ice-skate.”

“No worries. I’ll teach you.” He extended a hand towards her, and after a moment’s reluctance, she took it, slowly rising to her feet. The thin blades on her shoes threw off her sense of balance, and she wobbled dangerously, but Jupiter caught her by the arm and helped her to stay upright.

Jack called over to them in invitation, his voice bouncing off the frozen surface and echoing across the lake. Morrigan took a deep breath, and, leaning on Jupiter for support, stepped out over the ice.

She slipped almost immediately, but again Jupiter was there to keep her from falling. Inch by inch, they made their way across the lake’s surface, and Morrigan very gradually found her sense of balance.

“Steady, Mog,” Jupiter said encouragingly. “You’ve got this.”

Taking a deep breath, she drew away from Jupiter, still holding his hand for security. A grin split her face as she managed to stay standing, and Jack gave her an encouraging cheer. She gave a small spin, and Jupiter beamed.

“You’re a natural at this, Moggers,” he said with pride, and then he let go of her hand.

Morrigan’s heart skipped a beat, and for a brief moment she thought she would fall, but she didn’t. Letting out an exhilarated chuckle, she began to slowly skate across the ice on her own, gaining confidence with every movement.

Eventually, she wobbled to a stop right beside Jack, who gave her an encouraging thumbs up. She nudged him playfully, causing him to nearly fall, and they spent the rest of the day chasing each other around the ice, until the sun sank to the horizon and the warm colours of the sky set the ice ablaze.

Morrigan, Jack and Jupiter walked home side-by-side, carrying their skates by the laces.

It was times like this that made Morrigan truly grateful for the people she called family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve never ice skated before. Like at all. I had legitimately no idea what I was talking about while writing this lmaoooooooo  
> I know this is a short one but ❤️❤️ Jupidad ❤️❤️❤️


	8. Sweaters

Colourful threads ensnared every surface of the homely train, with bundles of yarn cast every which way and abandoned projects littering every surface. The carriage was filled with the sound of chatter and the disorganised clicking of knitting needles as all of 919 attempted a new craft.

Miss Cheery, in her growing Christmas frenzy, had decided that 919 needed something to spice up their holiday season. Something to show off their festive spirit, and to keep them warm as the days grew colder. Something special. Something with charm.

“We’re making ugly sweaters,” she’d declared at the platform that morning.

“Specifically ugly ones?” Hawthorne followed up.

“As horrid as you can get ‘em.”

Hawthorne seemed pleased by this.

Now, he was sitting opposite Morrigan atop a mountain of fleece, tongue stuck out in concentration as he fiddled with the yarn in his hands. He’d managed about half of a sleeve so far, although it was quite remarkably bent out of shape.

Morrigan herself had made a bit more progress, though she was fantastically bad at it, and the finished article sitting in her lap only barely qualified as a sweater. Although it was, to her credit, quite ugly. At least she’d managed to fill half of the criteria.

Cadence, sitting right beside Morrigan, was having a lot more success, and was onto her third jumper already.

“How’d you get so good at knitting?” Morrigan asked despondently, looking down at her own vomit-coloured creation.

“My grandma taught me,” Cadence mumbled, looking awkward. She turned to Morrigan. “I can show you, if you’d like.”

“No thanks,” Morrigan replied. “I’ve got it handled.”

They both cast a simultaneous dubious glance at Morrigan’s project.

“Totally handled,” Morrigan reiterated through gritted teeth. Cadence barked a laugh, returning to her knitting.

As the day wore on, Morrigan slowly started to get the hang of things, abandoning her original project and restarting with something a little more sweater-shaped. The result was a strange blend of purple wool in various shades, with an asymmetrical hemline and arms that were far too long for any human being with typical proportions.

Cadence put a hand on Morrigan’s shoulder to get her attention. “I want you to have this,” Cadence said, looking somewhat flustered and holding out a jumper.

Morrigan took it slowly, admiring it. The jet-black garment was just her size, and on the front was an artfully stitched crow in mid-flight, with white wool outlining the borders and little gold sparkles trailing from the wings.

“We were supposed to make  ugly  sweaters,” Morrigan said jokingly. “Cadence, this is amazing. I...” She fumbled for words, still not used to such persistent kindness. “Thank you so much.”

Cadence seemed glad to see Morrigan so happy. “I made it just for you,” she said.

“It’s fantastic. Here—I’ll trade you. You can have this one,” Morrigan said, handing her the lopsided purple one she’d made.

Cadence slipped it over her head. It was far too big for her, and she spent a good minute or so trying to roll the sleeves up so her arms could come through. Once it was on, she looked down at herself, grinning. “It’s great, Morrigan. I love it,” she said sincerely.

Morrigan put on the black jumper, and the two girls smiled at each other. The black sweater was warm and snug, and it filled Morrigan with joy.

Around the carriage, the rest of 919 set their knitting tools aside, showing off their creations. Francis had made a very well-crafted one that looked like a Christmas pudding, and Thaddea and Anah had made matching green-and-blue striped shirts which they were wearing with pride. Arch had made an exceptional dragon-patterned jumper for Hawthorne, who had been ecstatic to receive it and was now prowling around the carriage making ferocious dragon noises at anyone he walked past.

Morrigan put an arm around Cadence as the train filled with chatter. Cadence returned the gesture, leaning her head against Morrigan’s with a smile.

“You comfortable down there?”

“Yeah,” Morrigan said with a giggle. “You’re cozy in that big thing.”

Cadence smiled, and Morrigan curled up against her, feeling safe and warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the “Sweater Mog” advocates slash Morridence shippers are screaming rn. I am one of them djksjdkd  
> I’m gonna be honest, some of these wunshots have felt kinda flat but I really REALLY like how this one turned out lmao. Little sweater weather sweeties ❤️❤️


	9. Party

“Chop-chop, people! We’ve much to do and so little time to do it!”

Morrigan and Jack watched with amusement as Frank scurried around the Hotel lobby, barking orders at people and looking generally hassled. The Deucalion’s famed rival, the Aurianna, had been putting up advertisements since the beginning of November about their ‘spectacular’ annual Christmas party, and Frank was not having a word of it.

“Nobody out-spectaculars the king of spectacles,” he had grumbled upon reading another of their ads in the paper, and Jack and Morrigan had both tried very hard not to laugh.

What had followed had been a week full of elite decorating and party planning, with enough red-and-green cupcakes to feed the whole city twice over, and towers of puddings in almost every flavour imaginable. Every day there was some new task to fulfil, and every day the Deucalion staff worked harder and harder to achieve it. Frank, in his relentless Christmas spirit, was a vicious tyrant, and none dared to oppose his rule.

He trotted up to them now, near collapsing under the weight of an armful of cardboard boxes.

“You. Children.” Frank dumped a box into Morrigan’s arms, and another into Jack’s. “Make yourselves useful and do something with these.”

Morrigan looked down at the contents of the box as Frank sped away. “They’re Christmas lights,” she said to Jack.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Jack said drily. “And here I was so sure it was kittens.”

“Oh, shut up.”

With a mutual eye-roll and a shared playful nudge, the two of them took their cargo and got to work.

* * *

After several hours of careful strategising, delicate co-operation, and a bit of muttered cursing, the lobby’s decorations were at last complete. The tree they’d adorned earlier that month stood as a magnificent centrepiece to the vibrant ribbons and tinsel, and everyone who’d wound up involved in the ordeal now stood around the base of the tree with varying looks of satisfaction.

Frank, however, was not done. He told everyone to wait where they were, and then he disappeared. A few moments of confusion passed before the room was plunged into darkness.

A very brief panic swept through the room, then passed in an instant. Excited murmurs began to ripple through the crowd, and Jack squeezed Morrigan’s shoulder in the darkness.

Morrigan squinted, unable to make out anything in the pitch black room. An expectant hush fell over the lobby, and she turned her head upwards, waiting.

A few silent moments passed, and then there was a click, and the room flooded with colour.

Morrigan gasped. Endless rows of Christmas lights glittered in the dark, casting fiery rainbows across the awestruck crowd. They spiralled up the Hotel stairway, looping around in dizzying swirls, glimmering and flashing up and up until they became distant, shining stars.

Another few moments of amazed silence ticked by before the entire lobby burst into applause.

Morrigan looked over at Jack. In the gentle glow cast by the lights, she could see the delighted grin that shaped his face, one which she shared as he met her gaze.

“Nicely done, eh?” he said loudly, though he was largely drowned out by the ongoing displays of delight from the gathered crowd.

Morrigan gave him a fist-bump, and they both stared up at the twinkling display, burning in thousands of colours and filling them both with Christmas cheer.

She could have sat there and watched them all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one for today but these last three chapters... get ready 👀  
> I said it on the Discord already but just a forewarning. I’ve got a busy schedule these next few days so if I end up skipping on a post then I apologise in advance lmao.  
> Three quarters of the way through now! I can’t believe it’s almost Christmas :o


	10. Snowball

Morrigan crouched behind a thick wall of snow, waiting. Silence hung heavy in the air.

As Christmas edged ever closer, Martha had suggested that Morrigan invite her Unit over to celebrate at the Deucalion, or at least to hang out for the day. Morrigan had thought this would be a good idea. Perhaps they’d all watch a movie, or eat some festive snacks.

Instead, 919 had almost immediately declared a snowball war. Not just the typical senseless tossing-and-shouting, either—an actual, structured battle, with fragile alliances and snowy fortresses and slowly rising tensions that turned silence to stone.

The Deucalion staff had been all too eager to join in. 

Beyond the safety of Fort Wildfire (as Jupiter had dubbed their team), Mahir stood as an ambassador, facing off against the enemy in the very dead centre of the icy clearing. Francis stood opposite him, arms behind his back, with a hostile glint in his eye. The soldiers of Fort Midnight peeked over their walls behind him (a name picked out by Fenestra, and unopposed after her teammates had taken one look at her claws).

There was a beat of silence. Mahir spoke.

“You have a lot of nerve, challenging us,” he said in a low voice. “You should know the Wildfires do not go down easy.”

Francis sneered. “You people are so naive. Don’t you realise war is so much more than brutality?” He swept his arms out with the condescending air of someone who thought he’d already won, and Mahir scowled.

“You only say that because you’re weak,” he spat.

“And  _ you  _ only say that because you lack strategy,” Francis rebutted in a smug tone. “The Midnights have class, Mahir. Something you and your little posse couldn’t dream of understanding.”

“You don’t know the first thing about us,” Mahir growled. Around the clearing, there was a collective, quiet shuffle of snow, and everybody tensed. In the moments of heavy silence before Francis spoke, Morrigan could almost  _ feel  _ the atmosphere shift slightly.

“I know we could defeat you with ease,” Francis said plainly, as if it were a simple fact. Mahir bristled.

“We have a Wundersmith,” he said threateningly, and Morrigan sat up a little straighter.

“And we have a Magnificat,” Francis responded. Fen’s furry head appeared above the fortress walls. “So it would seem we’re at an impasse.”

“We sure are,” Mahir agreed, his hands curling into fists. “You’d best watch out for yourself, chef boy. Our troops are ready for anything.”

Francis stepped closer, and a deep scowl etched itself onto his face. “One thing you can count on, in a world that changes in the blink of an eye, and a society that hates itself to the point of destruction... is that it will always be midnight somewhere. Midnight never dies,” he finished in a growl, and Morrigan touched two fingers to the snow.

Mahir smirked. “And something you should know, no matter how hard you can try to stop it, and no matter how well you think you’ve prepared... a wildfire will burn right through you, faster than you can beg it to stop.” He stepped back bracingly. “Fire spreads fast, Fitzwilliam. Can you keep up?”

A very long second passed, and nobody made a sound.

A single snowball sailed through the air, landing just short of the two boys with a powdery thud. Nobody reacted for a very brief moment.

Then a mangled way cry tore through the silence and the battlefield erupted into chaos.

Snowballs decorated the air like missiles, scattering across the ground in disorganised clusters. People leapt over the walls of their fortresses, diving headfirst into the fray, and there was rather a lot of shouting from both sides of the battle.

Morrigan packed a handful of snow into a tight weapon, rising to her feet and taking steady aim. She launched it with as much power as she could muster, and it whizzed right past Jack, just barely missing him. He turned to her with war in his eyes.

Morrigan moved on from her failed target, dashing over to assist some of her teammates.

Hawthorne had been defeated already, and Cadence was crouching over him with a grieving-but-moreso-disappointed look. Morrigan grabbed her by the arm, ripping her away from their fallen comrade, and managing to save her from an incoming snowball with a fraction of a second left to spare. She nodded gratefully and went on her way, while Morrigan ducked behind the safety of the fortress again.

She took a brief moment to survey the battlefield and strategise. On one end of the battlefield, Thaddea was carrying Anah on her shoulders, and the golden-haired girl was pelting snow at anyone in range. Morrigan couldn’t exactly remember which team they were on, but it didn’t seem to matter, as they were targeting people regardless of alignment. She mentally crossed out that side of the street.

In the dead centre of the street, Fenestra had stationed herself, swiping snowballs out of the air and away from her teammates with a ferocious hiss. Arch and Lam cowered beneath her, throwing snowballs from the safety of her violent defence. So that was also a no.

On the far side of the battlefield, away from Thaddea and Anah’s deadly teamwork and Fenestra’s fierce protection, Jack stalked through the snow with a vengeful grip on the snowball in his hand. No doubt he was on the hunt for Morrigan.

She calculated him to be the safest option, picked up a snowball of her own, and made her way over to him.

His visible eye narrowed menacingly as she stepped out into the war zone, and they faced each other for a tense moment, metaphorical hackles raised.

Jack went first, lobbing his snowball at her with precise power. Morrigan dodged gracefully, and then it was her turn. She pitched it like it was a tennis ball, and it flew towards him in a raised arc, faster and higher and closer until it missed him fantastically, landing about a metre away. Jack took the opportunity to laugh at her, and she scowled.

She was so caught up in her own failure, in fact, that she didn’t spot Jack’s partner-in-crime until it was far too late.

With frighteningly perfect aim, Kedgeree threw a snowball at her, and he and Jack watched with glee as it approached its mark.

Morrigan flinched as it sped towards her, this was it, surely, she wouldn’t make it, this was how she would die—

And then Jupiter dove in front of her, blocking the oncoming projectile from reaching Morrigan, and taking the hit instead.

He sprawled dramatically across the ground, and Morrigan rushed to his side. He smiled at her through half-lidded eyes.

“Go on, Wildfire,” he said weakly. “Fight well in my absence. You... will be... unstoppable.”

“Jupiter! Nooo!” Morrigan grabbed him by the shoulders as he went limp, shaking him in mock agony. A look of steel crossed her face. “Your sacrifice will not be in vain,” she muttered darkly, standing to regroup with her other surviving teammates. (Behind her, Jupiter sat up to watch.)

Charlie had been taken down as well, leaving Cadence, Mahir, Martha, and Frank as Morrigan’s only surviving teammates. Across the field, Midnight had also reconvened, with Fenestra, Arch, Lam, Kedgeree, Dame Chanda, and Jack standing in a tight circle—Francis had been defeated early on by a pack of ticked-off Wildfires, and was sitting a little way off, pouting. Thaddea and Anah, unsure of their own loyalties, had simply sat in the snow by themselves, and were having a pleasant conversation about the weather.

“We need to teach those Midnights a lesson,” Frank said passionately. “They’ve already taken too many of our own.”

“But how on earth do we get past Fenestra’s defence?” Martha asked despairingly.

“She’s a big target,” said Cadence. “She can’t be that hard to miss.”

“But she’ll just bat away anything we throw at her,” Mahir pointed out. There was a long moment of thoughtful silence.

“Then we’ll need to distract her,” Morrigan said with resolve. “Listen, I’ve got an idea...”

Muttered words were exchanged, heads were nodded, and hands were shaken. Wildfire split up.

They split out across the fortress, each of them stockpiling snowballs as they went, making sure to stay out of view of their opponents. The Midnights had also separated, prowling over the empty battlefield with watchful eyes and armfuls of icy weapons. They assumed a basic attack position, with Fen leading as a great furry shield.

Mahir gave a meaningful nod, and Frank emerged from the fortress. All eyes were immediately on him.

He raised his hands, slowly, innocently, blinking owlishly at the scowling opposition. As he drew closer, Fenestra turned to face him, and Wildfire held its breath.

“I’ve come to broker a deal,” he said sweetly. Fenestra flexed her claws.

“We both know,” he continued. “That you’re winning. My team can’t deny it any longer.” He clasped his hands under his chin. “With our vastly lowered numbers and your impenetrable fortification, it would seem you have us at checkmate. You’ve practically won.” The Midnights grinned, and, out of sight, the Wildfires crept into position.

“That’s why the Wildfires have decided,” Frank declared in a voice laced with barely tangible self-righteousness, “to take out your defence.”

The serene peace shattered immediately, but the Midnights couldn’t react fast enough. Martha, Cadence, Mahir, and Morrigan popped up from behind the wall in a synchronised line, hurling snowball after snowball through the air.

Fenestra fought with speed and fury, but the onslaught proved to be too much, and she went down with a heavy, final thud. The Midnights scattered in panic as their shelter was overwhelmed.

The Wildfires dropped back behind their base, but not before a livid Midnight managed to score a hit on Frank, taking him down. He fell to the ground, acting out his martyrdom to full capacity, and the Wildfires honoured his courage.

They split off in pairs this time, with Martha and Mahir crossing to one side of the field, and Cadence and Morrigan hurrying to the other. They gave each other a proud nod before stepping past the wall, side-by-side and loaded with snow.

Dame Chanda and Kedgeree were there to meet them, but the determined tag-team took them out with ease. Perhaps the long fight had drained some of the older warriors’ energies, as they both gave in without much of a fight.

Next were Lam and Arch, who, being the last of 919 still standing in Midnight, had converged together to form a tight pair. They approached Morrigan and Cadence with malice.

They duked it out for a good while, Lam dodging most projectiles with ease. Eventually, Morrigan landed a lucky hit on Arch, who collapsed with a healthy amount of dramatic flair. It took another good minute of tossing and swearing, but eventually they managed to bring Lam down too.

The oracle didn’t go without a fight, however. Cadence took a last desperate snowball directly to the chest, falling backwards with a grunt. Morrigan gave a short cry of anguish for her fallen partner, but the mesmerist gave her an encouraging wink, and she turned away with new resolution.

Only two others remained in battle—Mahir and Jack, circling each other aggressively. Martha sat at a distance with a clear patch of snow on her jacket.

Just as Morrigan arrived at Mahir’s side, Jack took him down with a well-aimed hit, leaving him and Morrigan standing off alone. The other fallen soldiers began to stand up, forming a lopsided circle around the growling duo.

The match was a long and electrifying one, with the crowd booing and cheering at every twist and turn. Jupiter shouted encouragement to both parties, and Jack and Morrigan took a very short break to toss a snowball each at him, just because they could.

They returned to their scuffle, glowering. They’d stopped circling each other now, and their respective teams were bunched up behind them in enthralled clusters, egging them on.

Morrigan threw, Jack dodged. Jack threw, Morrigan dodged. On and on in a repetitive loop until Morrigan had a brainwave.

She gripped the snowball tightly in her hand, aimed it right at Jack, and then made a forceful throwing motion. He ducked to the side, and then Morrigan threw it for real, striking him square on the shoulder and quelling him at last.

The Wildfires gave a deafening roar of victory, and even the Midnights cheered good-naturedly, crowding around the reigning champion with a good deal of arm-punching and cheering.

Jack pushed through the bustling group to give Morrigan a handshake and a smile, which Morrigan reciprocated with pride. Jupiter appeared between them, sweeping them both into a bone-crushing hug.

As joyful chanting rose up around her, Morrigan was very, very happy she’d brought her Unit over.

After all, what would Christmas be without her brothers and sisters?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good lord this one was long lmaooooo  
> Anyway I know the whole first chunk has THE most unnecessarily intense dialogue but in my defence it’s funny


	11. Cursed

A quiet knock on Morrigan’s door distracted her from her letters.

She swept them aside as the door creaked open, arranging them into a neat pile at the foot of her bed. The visitor spoke in a small voice, as they always did.

“Your father has called you down for dinner, Miss Morrigan.”

Morrigan was surprised by this, but she didn’t make a comment. “I’ll be down soon,” was all she said to the maid, who disappeared as soon as she was no longer needed.

She hadn’t been expecting her father to summon her. Usually he kept her out of sight for most of the day—wouldn’t want her causing any mishaps, or tainting his image on such a publicised day. Dinner would often be served much later in the evening, and Morrigan would usually have it alone.

But Corvus wanted her to dine with the family, for whatever reason. And she wasn’t going to deny him that.

She stood up, rubbing her wrist with a wince. The holiday season somehow always brought on a record-breaking wave of misfortune in Wolfacre, and Morrigan spent most of Christmastime writing apology letters to those affected by the accidents. Her hands always ached for weeks afterwards.

Abandoning her half-finished pile of apologies, she exited the safety of her bedroom and made her way downstairs. Maids and housekeepers scuttled cautiously out of her way as she passed, and she did her best to act like it didn’t bother her in the slightest.

Her relatives were already seated at the dinner table when she arrived. Corvus and Ivy were sitting next to each other, and Grandmother sat opposite them with her usual permanent scowl. Morrigan took a chair on Grandmother’s side of the table, although she left a space between them, not wanting to intrude on Grandmother’s personal space.

Ivy gave her a gleaming smile that she tried to reciprocate, but it turned out more like a wince. Corvus cleared his throat.

“I’d just like to say,” he began testily, “thank you, all, for joining me. It is... good to have you all here to celebrate this evening,” he said dispassionately, and Morrigan slouched a little.

“Oh, please,” Grandmother cawed, in the spiteful and carefree way that grandmothers tend to do. “You’re only doing this because it makes you look good. Sitting down for dinner with your loving family... makes for easy sympathy points among the masses, eh?”

Corvus turned pink, but didn’t say anything. Morrigan was unsurprised.

“Really, now,” Grandmother continued, “would it be so hard to have a normal holiday dinner for once?”

“Perhaps if we were a normal family,” Corvus said darkly, shooting Morrigan a poisonous look that she was all too used to.

“Don’t be like that, Corvie,” Ivy said sweetly. “The girl deserves a nice Christmas meal with her family.”

Morrigan was touched by Ivy’s sudden kindness until she continued in a stage whisper:

“Besides, you know there are only so many Christmases left until Eventide......”

Everyone within earshot stiffened, pretending not to look at Morrigan, while Morrigan pretended not to care. Corvus cleared his throat, giving Ivy a pointed stare.

“How...  _very_ nice of you, dear,” he said bracingly. “I’m sure my daughter is delighted by your thoughtfulness. Isn’t that right, Morrigan?”

“Positively stoked,” Morrigan said flatly.

The rest of the dinner was tense, but not much more so than they usually were. Ivy smiled a lot. Corvus sighed a lot more. Grandmother raised her voice on at least two occasions, and Morrigan ate her dinner in silence and tried not to draw attention to herself. When it was finally over, she bade her relatives a polite “Jolly Christmas”, pointedly didn’t help with the clearing up (as she would surely find some way to make things difficult), and fled upstairs to her room at the first chance she got.

Later that night, curled up in bed with Emmett tucked under her arm, Morrigan silently began to cry.

She wished she wasn’t cursed. She wished she could spend Christmas with a family who loved her, who didn’t fear her or resent her just for being born. She wished she had a mother who cared about her, and a place to call home. She wished she could celebrate the holidays without knowing exactly how few of them she had left before she was destined to die.

Morrigan so desperately wished that things could be different, but she knew it was impossible. There was no escaping what she was—what she was destined to become.

And yet a small part of herself, tiny and flickering like a dying flame, hoped for change. Despite herself, Morrigan prayed for a second chance.

But there were no second chances for a cursed child. She knew, deep in her heart, that she would die far too early for her life to begin, and that she would leave this world having never met a single person who loved her in the slightest.

Perhaps, for all that it mattered, Morrigan had been dead from the moment she was born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh? Did you want fluff? Was it fluff you were wanting? Just fun light hearted fluff with no angst whatsoever?  
> Sure. I can do that. I can totally do that!  
> But why in the ever-loving hell would I?  
> So I don’t really know if this fits in with canon or not but. Here it is. 🙃


	12. Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place a few years after Hollowpox, but doesn’t rlly have any actual spoilers for the 3rd book. Picture Morrigan to be ~16yrs.  
> I like to think of it as “canon malleable”—it may not 100% stick to canon, but it doesn’t explicitly deviate from it as far as we currently can predict.  
> With that said, enjoy this last wunshot, and have a very Jolly Christmas :)

“Alright, everyone!” Jupiter stood on the Hotel stairway, looking out over the crowd gathered below. Deucalion staff, visitors from Unit 919 (conductor included), and a large swathe of electrified guests from all over Nevermoor were gathered in the lobby, staring up at him. “Let’s go over the rules one more time.” He grinned, leaning over the railing slightly. “Rule number one:”

“THERE ARE NO RULES!” the crowd chanted as one, and the lobby exploded into action.

Patriotic cheers thundered through the room, and flashes of red and green splashed through the group. Morrigan saw a pack of red water-balloons go soaring over the masses, countered by a volley of green paint-splattered golf balls. Nothing was sacred. Nowhere was safe.

Morrigan allowed herself to be swept along by the bustling crowd.

It had been Frank’s idea—a chaotic celebration of all things Christmas, hosted by the Hotel Deucalion and fought by just about anyone who felt like showing up. The event had been scheduled for the 23rd of December, and an invitation had been broadcasted to all of Nevermoor; a once-in-a-lifetime, all stops pulled out, crowd-participation mock-up of the Battle of Christmas Eve.

“A Battle of Christmas Eve’s Eve, if you will,” Frank had said with flair during the initial planning phase, and Jupiter had rubbed at his temples as if he had a headache.

Jupiter leapt deftly over the railing now, decked in a suit of velvet red, which clashed terribly with the bright copper of his hair. (His endless and unwavering confidence made him look good in it anyway, despite Dame Chanda’s ceaseless protests.) He quickly blended into a crowd of Nick supporters and Morrigan lost sight of him.

She kept moving with the flow of the crowd, looking around in search of anyone she knew. Eventually she spotted Thaddea and Mahir, both dressed in red, locked in what appeared to be a sword fight against two Yule supporters, using fittingly coloured pool noodles as weapons. Mahir caught her eye and gave her a gleeful grin, before immediately getting whacked by a green noodle and subsequently being swallowed by the crowd. At least he’d looked like he was having fun.

Morrigan ducked to avoid a sudden bombardment of green streamers that had been tossed into the fray, unravelling as they went. Loud bursts sounded from behind her, and bucketloads of red confetti exploded into the air as a counter strike.

Covering her ears, she looked around at the room again, formulating a plan. The ceaseless noise and colour made it difficult to think, but in the end she decided on one main goal:

Get to the rooftop, and, if she had to, fight like hell along the way.

She began to push through the crowd in the direction of the stairs before a large, furious wall of fur blocked her path.

Fenestra had stationed herself right in front of the front desk, and was duking it out in favour of the Yule Queen as if her life depended on it.

“DOWN WITH THE CAPITALIST HIERARCHY!” The Magnificat screeched, swiping at any on-comers with great claws, regardless of if they were allies or not. “VIVA LA COMMUNISM, SCOUNDRELS! GOD SAVE THE QUEEN!”

Morrigan made sure to give her a wide berth as she approached the base of the stairs.

As she drew closer to the stairway, it became increasingly apparent that she wasn’t the only one to have devised such a plan—thin streams of people dressed in greens and reds began to trickle in alongside her, some dashing ahead in order to gain a lead, and others lingering behind and looking rather as if they were itching to start a fight. Morrigan decided to move ahead, pushing her way through a patch of carollers as she did so. She caught a single boisterous verse of the jingle that played on the ads for Saint Nick’s cereal brands, before she ran out of earshot and the other noises drowned the singing away.

Pausing several steps up, Morrigan turned to look back at the fighting crowd. The entire thing was a mess of colour and light and sound, and Morrigan was having the absolute time of her life. It was delightfully overwhelming, and she watched as the masses wreaked havoc for a few more joyous moments before proceeding up the stairs.

She got about halfway to the second floor before running directly into Cadence. She stumbled backwards, grabbing onto the stair railing for support as she stared the taller girl down.

“You’ll never get past, capitalist scum,” Cadence said with a scowl. “Anyone who tries is getting mesmerised into oblivion. Do  _not_ test me.”

Morrigan cast a quick glance around. Everyone nearby seemed to be locked in their own one-on-one standoffs, so it seemed, for all intents and purposes, that the two were alone.

Admittedly, Morrigan was rather proud of her capacity for quick thinking. In the moment’s pause after Cadence had spoken, she came up with a very simple plan, but one that she hoped would be effective.

“Gosh, you sure do have us cornered there,” Morrigan said theatrically. She even draped an arm over her forehead as if she were going to faint, for bonus effect. “You know, it sure would be a shame if anything were to distract you...”

Cadence narrowed her eyes. “I know you’re planning something. Out with it, you filthy Nick follower, before I—“

She was cut off as Morrigan grabbed her by the mint-green scarf and kissed her on the lips.

Cadence turned a deep red as Morrigan pulled away. “That w—I don’t—you—how c— _Morrigan_.”  She had instantly dissolved into a flustered mess, just like Morrigan had hoped she would.

Morrigan yanked her forward and kissed her again for good measure, a bit longer for good luck, a little bit longer just in case, a tiny bit longer because she could, and maybe just another moment because she was really quite enjoying herself right now. She would definitely have to try this again when they weren’t in the midst of a battle.

She abandoned her furiously blushing Unit-mate with a wink and a wave, and continued up the stairs.

As she climbed, she caught a glimpse of Miss Cheery facing off against Lam and Francis with a small arsenal of Nerf guns down one of the hallways. The three of them briefly paused their shootout to give her a cheerful greeting, and then she moved on.

Jupiter appeared beside her then, splattered in paint and glitter and grinning as if it were the best thing in the whole wide world.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked her, leaning down slightly in order for his voice to be heard over the noise. Morrigan nodded, beaming, and Jupiter smirked.

Giving her a tight squeeze on the arm, he stepped away. Morrigan saw him lingering behind to stall a few Yule fighters as she hurried onwards.

She was so close now. The doors were in sight, she had nearly reached the top of the stairway. She could almost taste the fresh outdoor air, and when she looked down she could barely distinguish greens and reds among the swarming mass.

Finally reaching the end of her journey, she pushed at the door with as much force as she could muster. The doors to the rooftop burst open, and Morrigan had reached her goal at last. 

Cool twilight wind washed against her face, and she took a deep breath, relishing the moment.

Hawthorne bounded up to greet her as she ambled out across the free space on the rooftop. Apparently he’d been waiting up there since the battle had begun.

“I’ve got something big planned,” he told her animatedly. “Really big. I’m just waiting for enough people to get here so I can show it off.”

He left Morrigan with this mildly worrying statement, and she sat down near the edge of the roof, staring out over the city skyline.

There was a peaceful silence for a few short minutes, until people began arriving from downstairs and the area gradually filled. At least it was quieter now—it seemed most people had worn themselves out, and tensions were beginning to loosen. Morrigan could even spot a few people who had swapped accessories already.

Once it seemed the rooftop couldn’t possibly fit any more people, a set of spotlights drew everyone’s focus to one side of the building. Morrigan stood from where she was sitting, made her way over to the main point of focus, and watched with avid curiosity. The crowd stilled.

The sight was a truly phenomenal one. Morrigan stepped back with a gasp as a shimmering scaly head rose up over the balustrade, followed by wings, then a body, then legs, then a long, spiny tail. The dragon did an impressive loop around itself before levelling back down, and Morrigan leaned forward in anticipation for what she knew was coming next.

Hawthorne, much to the crowd’s mingled delight and horror, took a running leap from the edge of the crowd and threw himself directly off of the roof. The dragon rose up moments later with him secured tightly onto its back, and the mob erupted into a deafening applause.

The young dragon rider wasn’t done yet, though. He did a few impressive loops and spirals before sweeping overhead for the main event. With a gentle tug at the dragon’s horns, they began what was clearly a meticulously rehearsed routine. The great reptile shot precise streaks of flame from its gaping maw, painting blazing letters onto the dark sunset sky.

_ JOLLY CHRISTMAS_ , the finished message declared, and the crowd cheered even louder. Despite having seen many similar displays from Hawthorne already, Morrigan never failed to be impressed.

As the fiery letters faded to smoke, fireworks began soaring into the sky, bursting in all shades of reds and greens. They popped and crackled and lit up the sky, and the masses were delighted.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder, drawing her attention away, and she turned to see Cadence standing there with a deep blush still painting her face.

“I feel like you owe me something,” Cadence said.

“An apology?”

Cadence paused. “Yes. No. Maybe.” She looked at the floor. “On the one hand, how dare you. You  _should_ be sorry. But on the other hand, you shouldn’t be sorry, because that was bloody brilliant.”

Morrigan grinned. “If you wanted another you could have just asked.”

Cadence made a move this time, ducking forward and lifting Morrigan into a sweeping spin. The two girls giggled, and they both leaned forward into a gleeful kiss as Morrigan landed back on the ground.

“So who do you think won?” Morrigan asked offhandedly once they broke apart.

Cadence shrugged. “It’s like the regular Battle, isn’t it? Everyone wins.” She gave Morrigan a wink. “I’d certainly count this as a personal victory.”

Morrigan laughed, leaning her head against Cadence’s shoulder, and the taller girl wrapped her into a tight embrace.

“Jolly Christmas, Mon-Bon,” Cadence whispered, planting another gentle kiss on the top of Morrigan’s head.

“And a Glad Yuletide to you,” Morrigan returned, smiling.

The two girls sat to watch as fireworks painted the horizon, hand-in-hand and hearts soaring.

Later, the Deucalion staff passed around little party poppers to every person gathered there, and on Jupiter’s count of three they all popped them at once. Colourful confetti burst into the air, dropping back down in thousands of rainbow spirals, and the atmosphere brimmed with cheer.

Surrounded by people she loved and people who loved her back, Morrigan couldn’t have asked for a better Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I know this is a bit messy in places, and I could’ve done a bit better with the overall structure, but yknow what? I had fun and that’s what matters :)  
> With that said, thank you all SO SO MUCH for reading, it really makes my day to know my writing can give people enjoyment. As always, any feedback is greatly appreciated, as I’m always looking to improve!  
> And even though I literally just said it. THANK Y’ALL. ilysm. 💖💞💘💕  
> Jolly Christmas, Nevermoorians. Here’s to good things!  
> ❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚


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